


Coffee

by orphan_account



Series: The Thing He Hadn’t Done [4]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, First Dates, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:27:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27579799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The morning is cool and crisp, a gentle wind sweeping through town, rustling the autumn leaves from branches and the ground. Alexander watches the sun rise and leaves dance in the wind from his desk, behind a tinted window. It’s early, the sky still slightly purple, with fiery hints of red and orange playing amongst the few clouds streaking the horizon.—There is no need to read the other parts to understand this work.
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/Thomas Jefferson
Series: The Thing He Hadn’t Done [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1815757
Comments: 13
Kudos: 26





	Coffee

The morning is cool and crisp, a gentle wind sweeping through town, rustling the autumn leaves from branches and the ground. Alexander watches the sun rise and leaves dance in the wind from his desk, behind a tinted window. It’s early, the sky still slightly purple, with fiery hints of red and orange playing amongst the few clouds streaking the horizon.

The leaves, swirling and fluttering, captivate him, and he forgets his own fatigue and stresses. He is shaken out of his reverie by a knock on the wall--his door being already open. Alexander tilts his head so that he can see the person or people at the door. 

It’s Thomas.  _ Wait… When was he ever  _ Thomas _? It’s Jefferson.  _ He sighs, preparing for an argument that he really, really didn’t want to be having at _ six thirty _ in the morning. 

“Hello, Jefferson. Is there anything I can do for you this fine morning?” Alexander asks, eyes fixed on the man, who had been standing in the door and is now walking to him.  _ I didn’t invite him in, but here we are.  _ Jefferson walks in like he owns the place, taking long strides in a perfectly tailored powder-blue suit. He gives no immediate response, continuing to strut towards Alexander’s desk like a damn peacock. He pulls out a chair and gracelessly sits in it. In that moment, Alexander sees that Thoma-  _ Jefferson _ is carrying two disposable cups, one in each hand. 

“Good morning, Hamilton. I don’t want anything from you,” he pauses. He places the cup in his left hand on the desk. “Well… I mean I do, but I.. I--”

Alexander’s mouth twitches up at the corners. “But you what?”

Jefferson bites his lip, a white tooth flashing slightly in the mostly dark office. “I… I was hoping… hoping that we could share a cup of coffee,” he says, stuttering over a few words, looking at Alexander with a glint in his eye that he has never seen before. Alexander thinks that he--arrogant and confident Thomas Jefferson--is  _ nervous _ . Jefferson nudges the cup forward with the tips of his fingers, pushing it closer to Alexander, begging for him to accept the offering. 

Alexander finds Thomas’ eyes, locks them together, and takes the cup. The sheer amount of joy that blooms in the depths of Thomas’ eyes bewilders him. Thomas smiles, and Alexander can’t help but return it. It’s a smile that lights up the whole room, making the rising sun pale in comparison. The dullness of the monochromatic spectrum of color of the office is brightened, bursting with color, all because of one man. A golden light slips in through the window and surrounds Thomas like a halo. He looks ethereal, angelic even. A gentle, joyous smile plays on his lips and his eyes fill with a wonder that has Alexander perplexed. 

_ What did I do to make him smile like that? What can I do to make him smile like that again? Wait… what?  _

Thomas’ eyes crinkle at the corners, and something akin to laughter bubbles in Alexander’s throat as he looks at the man in front of him. 

“Okay then,” Alexander says at last, drawing out the syllables in the two words. Fighting laughter, he takes a sip from the mouth of the cup. His eyes widen when he finds it exactly to his liking. He brings the cup away from his mouth and asks, “How did you know how I drink my coffee?” 

Thomas ducks his head, bashful and shy, hiding what Alexander believes is a blush. He says softly, “Well… anyone with eyes can see how you take it. You make it every time you go to the break room--with too much creamer and sugar to be acceptable because you’re a fucking  _ heathen _ .” 

Alexander snorts, before taking another sip. “Mhmmm, all right, then,” he says, disbelieving. “And you didn’t have any help?”

“Ummm well… No?” Thomas says, sounding unsure. Then he mumbles, “But then again, Angelica told me weeks ago, but I didn’t do anything with the information until now because I am a coward…”

Alexander feigns ignorance and pretends he didn’t hear anything. He scratches at the corner of his mouth to hide the smile that is threatening to show itself. “Huh?”

“Oh… nothing,” Thomas says quickly, waving his hand, as if to dismiss the subject. Alexander opens his mouth to ask something and watches Thomas take a sip of his coffee--probably black with nothing in it, because that’s the only way he ever takes it, if Alexander remembers correctly--to avoid answering whatever question that could be asked. 

At a loss for what to do, Alexander takes a drink, then says, “Well… I have a few things to do. So you can go now… Thank you for the coffee,  _ Thomas. _ ”

Thomas smiles at the use of his given name, before it fades away into a sad expression. The light that was once in his eyes fades and he looks so disappointed. Immediately, Alexander wants to retract what he just said. But then, Thomas does something he doesn’t expect. 

Thomas remains seated and just smiles at him. “ _ No.” _

“What do you mean, ‘no’?” Alexander asks incredulously. 

“I mean, no. I’m not leaving. It’s six thirty-seven in the damn morning. No one will be here--no one ever is here--at least for another hour. You and I are the only ones who might be found here at this time. You can wait to do work, Alexander. Hell, you’re probably weeks ahead,” Thomas finishes bluntly before making a show of getting comfortable in the chair. 

“But I-- Wait. When did I become ‘ _ Alexander’ _ to you?”

Thomas presses his hand over his mouth. His eyes crinkle with amusement and his shoulders shake with suppressed laughter. Alexander just waits for an answer.

“Since when I was ‘Thomas’ to you?” he asks, voice colored with amusement.

Alexander rolls his eyes. “I asked first.”

“And yet, I believe that you already know the answer.” 

Alexander sips at his coffee. “I think I do… So tell me, Tommy--”

“Do  _ not _ call me that.”

“Alright,  _ Tommy _ ,” Alexander says again with a smirk. Thomas huffs in exasperation, crossing his arms indignantly. He continues speaking. “What possessed you to come here, to  _ my  _ office, of all places, to bring me coffee?” 

Thomas opens his mouth to speak, but Alexander lifts a hand to stop him. “I mean...I know we’ve been on friendly terms for a time, and I think that’s good and all, but  _ why? _ ”

Thomas fiddles with his hands, drumming his fingertips on the desk. “I… I’m not sure?” Thomas says, sounding not sure at all. 

“Yes, you do,” Alexander insists. “You never do anything without being sure, so, _ why are you here exactly? _ ”

Thomas stiffens in the chair, back straightening up and eyes becoming guarded. Alexander knows that he feels threatened, or on edge. Thomas only ever does that when he feels that way--Alexander would know, he’s watched him enough to know that particular tick.

“Well this time, I  _ don’t _ .” The words are curt. They remind Alexander of a bayonet, sharp and cutting. But his curiosity has peaked, and he just needs to know. He needs to have an answer. 

“Then why are you here?” Alexander spits. He wants to sound merely curious, but he sounds hostile instead. Thomas’ eyes find his and Alexander can see a glimmer of  _ hurt _ in them. 

“Because I like you, Alexander!” Thomas says at last, yanking his eyes away from Alexander’s. 

_ What? You like… me? Surely he means as a friend. Right? Yeah… That sounds about right.  _

“You what?” Alexander asks, iterating his confusion. 

“Don’t you dare patronize me. You know what I said. You know what I meant,” Thomas hisses, and stands up abruptly. His leg hits the edge of the desk and he whispers  _ “Fuck!” _ in his pain and disappointment. The movement also causes Alexander’s coffee cup to fall over, and it spills over some pages of notes that were on the desk. 

Alexander just watches the blue and black ink bleed as his notes are ruined. 

“Oh my God,” Thomas whispers, eyes widening in horror. “ _ Fuck…  _ I am so sorry, Hamilton. I should have never come… Oh my God.”

_ Hamilton… We’re back to ‘Hamilton’ now. I guess everything has to go around full circle with us, huh…?  _

Alexander lets out a laugh, watching Thomas scramble around his office looking for something to mop up the mess. “Oh… I don’t need those anymore. Don’t worry.” 

Thomas glares at him from across the room. “And you were just going to let me think that _ I ruined your damn notes? _ ” 

“Well, I told you  _ now _ didn’t I?”

“Fuck you,” Thomas says, but the scathing words are spoken around a disbelieving laugh.

“Excuse you.” 

Thomas rolls his eyes.

“So… you like me?” Alexander questions, looking up at Thomas. 

He groans, “Oh hell… It doesn’t have to mean anything?”

“And what if,” Alexander starts, walking up to Thomas, acting as if he were a wounded animal. “What if I want it to?” he asks, standing five feet away from Thomas. 

“And do you?” Thomas asks, eyes wide with both fear and hope. 

Alexander smiles. “Yes. Yes, I do.” 

Thomas lets out a breath and smiles. It’s something that radiates pure happiness and Alexander smiles back at him. They stand there, smiling like idiots at each other, for what feels like a long time. Then the phone rings, breaking the moment. 

Alexander sighs, “That’s probably Washington…”

“You should probably get that then,” Thomas says, walking towards the door. 

“Wait! Lunch at the little cafe two blocks down…” Alexander says, looking at Thomas’ retreating figure. 

Thomas gives him a little smile, just a quirk of his lips and a flash of teeth. “12:30. Don’t be late.”

“I won’t,” Alexander breathes and Thomas leaves his office. 

“Answer the damn phone!” he hollers from down the hallway. 

“I will!” Alexander yells back, running across the office to his phone. “Hello, this is Hamilton…”

—

One date turns into two, which turns into three, which turns into more. They’re happy. While not everything is easy, they both realize that it’s worth it. Because everything worth having never comes easy, but is worth fighting for.

They wake up in each other’s apartments, on each other’s couches or in each other’s beds. And there are always two cups of coffee made in the early, peaceful mornings or the quiet of night. One with too much sugar and one with nothing. 

They drink their coffee, side by side, across from each other, or in the other’s embrace. They drink coffee, savoring not only the flavor, but the moments spent together. Filled with laughter, or tears, or conversation, or silence, or coffee kisses…

And then they’re falling… Falling, falling, _ falling in love _ . Alexander doesn’t even know when he started. Faster and faster and faster he falls, and he doesn’t know how to stop. Then he sees the ground and--

—

Alexander jerks awake, breathing heavily. He’s not falling, he’s not going to hit the ground… He shifts, the sheets next to him are cold. The pillow--Thomas’ pillow--is perfectly fluffed still, as if he were never there. And he’s not. He’s been gone for… for what feels like forever. 

Alexander’s heart clenches and he rolls off the bed. The bed which feels too large for  _ just _ him. Hell, he would have never bought it if it were just for him. He walks into the kitchen, grabbing the ground coffee beans and filters. He opens the lid of the coffee maker, placing the filter inside before scooping the coffee beans out of the bag and putting it in the filter before closing the lid. He pours water into the carafe. He turns it on and sits on the counter, watching the dark liquid drip into the pot. 

When the pot is about halfway full, he jumps off of the counter and opens the cabinet, to the right of him. He takes out a white coffee mug, places it on the countertop before reaching inside it again to grab another, second cup. He stops the action as soon as he closes his hand around the cold ceramic. 

He has no reason to grab another cup. It’s just him in the lonely apartment. He sighs and unclenches his hand around it. Fighting back the tears that threaten to come, he closes the cabinet, letting it  _ thump _ as it hits the wooden frame.

The coffee is done brewing by the time he turns his attention back to the machine. He walks numbly to it, and he pours some into the single mug. He doesn’t add anything to it, too tired to even bother. 

It tastes bitter, the liquid scalding his tongue and his throat, bringing tears to his eyes. It  _ burns.  _ It feels like liquid  _ fire _ . Alexander doesn’t care; he just drinks and lets the liquid sit on his tongue long enough for it to feel fuzzy. Long enough for him to not be able to taste anything. Not even the salty tang of tears that have slid down his face and to his mouth, slipping in between his lips. 

He doesn’t know if they’re from his memories, or from the pain. He just _ doesn’t know. _

He sits at the countertop hunched over the mug, accompanied only by the light overhead and the silence. Alexander sits there, staring out into space, watching as things fade in and out of focus. His mind is quiet with the exception of one thought.

_ Thomas. ThomasThomasThomas. Thomas… I wish you were here. I wish you were here to have coffee with me… Like we did all those years ago in my office. To laugh with me… Thomas. Thomas. Thomas, where are you? _

He lets out an anguished cry when he hears the boom of thunder come from outside. He squeezes his eyes shut and his hand tightens on the handle of the mug. He tries to take a breath, tries to breathe, but it feels as if he were underwater. His life feels like it's falling to pieces right now… Everything feels dark and bitter, just like the coffee he's drinking. 

His eyes fly open when he hears another roll of thunder and a whimper escapes his mouth. He counts,  _ one, two, three, four, five… _ and eventually, he feels like he can breathe. Everything is quiet again, and he takes another sip.

To him, it never was and it never would be  _ just _ coffee.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!!  
> [Tumblr](https://bladesnflannel.tumblr.com)  
> -J


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